


A Safe Haven

by Lenny9987



Series: Lenny's Imagine Claire and Jamie Prompts [69]
Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-12 22:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21233600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenny9987/pseuds/Lenny9987
Summary: Prompt: Jamie did not send Claire through the stones but he did send her away. What if he sent her abroad? What would Jamie go through to be reunited with his wife and unborn child? What if he had to track her down? Had limited knowledge of her whereabouts?





	A Safe Haven

The drunken stupor Jamie had descended into for the voyage was wearing off. It was a much longer journey to cross the North Sea than crossing the Channel, but he couldn’t set foot in France. Not under the terms of his release from the Bastille. Yet that was where he’d sent Claire. A week before Culloden was due to be fought, he’d charged her and Fergus with bringing that deed of sasine to Lallybroch to ensure the estate and his people were protected. 

He’d known, then, that Claire was pregnant, but they hadn’t spoken of it—he wasn’t even sure she’d realized it herself in the confusion and hardship of those final weeks. If he’d said anything, if they’d talked about it at all, he wasn’t sure he could have signed those papers, whatever the consequences. 

Lallybroch belonged to the child she carried and he was giving it away. By not speaking of it, he could pretend long enough to do what was necessary. Which meant not just signing Lallybroch away, but sending Claire away too. 

She’d fought the idea, tried to argue him out of it. He used the threat of the stones to back her down—another thing for him to chastise himself over. If she wouldn’t go before Culloden and things went badly, the only way she would be able to escape to safety would be through the stones, so conveniently located near the as-yet-unchristened battlefield. And what about Fergus? Indeed, he’d used the guilt of their adopted son, too. Anything to get her and their unborn child somewhere safe. 

So she’d relented. To Lallybroch and then along the coast until they could find a port to sail for France. An Englishwoman and a French boy would raise none of the alarms that a Scot might. They would be safe and together. He wished he could have sent Murtagh with them, but a single glance to his godfather had killed those hopes. 

Grief and regret swept through him, carrying the last of the liquor-filled haze away with it. He clung to the railing as he leaned over the side and spilled the contents of his stomach into the sea. When his dry heaving subsided for a few minutes, he lowered himself to the deck, leaning against the barrier between himself and the oblivion of the waves. 

Perhaps it would be easier to swim the rest of the way. He felt as though he’d have as good a chance of surviving the ordeal as waiting out the voyage with no relief from the seasickness. 

No. Focus his mind on something other than his stomach. Claire. 

He ran through the plan he devised for finding her. Arrive in Amsterdam. Find accommodations and employment. Send letters to Mother Hildegarde, to Louise de La Tour, and perhaps even to his cousin, Jared. 

Those were the only people he could conceive of Claire turning to for assistance upon arriving in France. 

Fear ate at him. She should have sent word to Lallybroch of their safe arrival in France. Perhaps it was only that she considered it too soon to be safe? Or had she sent word only for it to be intercepted? If so, would that put Jenny and Ian and Lallybroch at risk?

It had been three months since the battle but the English forces were still roaming and punishing, snuffing out what little fight might remain in the Highlands. It had been chance alone that he’d survived at all. 

He pressed his fist to his thigh, dull pain radiating from the still-healing wound. Jenny had cursed quietly to herself as she fought the fever raging within him, lamenting the fact that Claire hadn’t simply stayed with them and waited out the fighting. He didn’t tell her that Claire would have decided to continue on as soon as she realized she was pregnant. She had done what she could to prepare Lallybroch and its people for the difficulties ahead, but she wouldn’t add additional mouths to feed if she could help it. She wouldn’t submit their unborn child or Fergus to the threat of going hungry or the fear of the English soldiers roaming the countryside and seeking revenge. 

She would go to someone she trusted, someone familiar. He would bet money on Mother Hildegarde. After the trial of losing Faith… He was confident Claire would seek counsel from her. Perhaps the old nun would have connections who could aid Claire rather than force her to seek assistance from the Jacobites in exile. 

Jamie closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the rail, willing the nausea back down and knowing it wouldn’t work. He’d be on his knees trying to make it over the rail within the next few minutes. 

But he  _ would _ survive this. He would make it work and find Claire and they would figure out what to do together. Preferably somewhere on the continent because he couldn’t bear the thought of getting on another ship once he’d left this one behind. 

* * *

Claire set the mortar and pestle down so she could wipe at the sweat on her brow and arch her back. She hated that it took so much more from her to do the simple things she’d been doing for years. A kick from the occupant inside her swollen belly let her know she wasn’t alone in her discomfort and frustration. 

The ghost of a smile passed over Claire’s face as she laid her palm over the place where she now knew a foot rested. It nudged her again, more gently this time. 

“Milady,” Fergus called from the doorway. “There was no meat to be had today. The butcher, his wife and son are ill so he has no help. What he managed alone was gone before I arrived.” He had a basket over his arm and a frown across his face. He hated being tasked with the shopping but never complained (not aloud, at least) to Claire when she sent him out. She was far enough along that so much time on her feet and carrying things was too taxing. 

Claire sighed and turned to take the vegetables and bread Fergus had managed to acquire from the basket, setting them on the other, larger table.

“We will just have to make do with a vegetable soup then,” she declared. “I’ve stock saved that ought to be enough to give it some flavor. And perhaps I should go see the butcher’s family tomorrow morning.” 

“Much as I should like the best cuts when I visit his stall,” Fergus conceded, “ I do not think Milord would want you to put yourself at risk in your condition.” 

He eyed her belly and she sighed, wanting to argue but she had too little fight left. Fergus had been getting after her to send word to Jenny and Ian about where they were and the fact that there was a new Fraser close to making its arrival. But she was too terrified to write. Letting them know where she was meant that news of Jamie would reach her, and she was convinced there could only be one kind of news where he was concerned—the worst and most painful kind. 

He wouldn’t have turned back from that battlefield. It simply wasn’t in his nature. He would do everything in the world to protect those around him but then sacrifice himself even knowing that the fight was doomed. If he’d survived the battle, he would have been captured and almost certainly killed. While there were plenty of soldiers who would simply be imprisoned (under harsh and deplorable conditions), he was Red Jamie and notorious enough for the English to want to make an example of him. 

Then there was the spectre of Faith. She was further along in her pregnancy than she’d gotten with Faith, but that only made her fears that something might go wrong worse. To write and tell them before she was safe through it felt like she might be tempting fate. Then there was the idea—flimsy though she knew it to be—that if she were holding Jamie’s child in her arms, maybe she could face the horrible and inevitable truth when Jenny’s response came. Not to mention, it would cushion her from Jenny’s grief and possible wrath over not having told them she was safe sooner. 

“Are you well, Milady?” Fergus asked, reaching to guide her to a chair. She let him. 

“I’m just tired,” she murmured. “It’s to be expected at this stage. I’ve a month yet and I’m afraid I’ll feel increasingly useless until the baby arrives. Thankfully,” she added with a smile for him, “I have a wonderfully capable assistant and protector on hand.” 

Fergus beamed at that. “Madame de La Tour’s cousin asked if you would be interested in joining her for a dinner with several of her friends. She assures it is not a large party and has decided getting away from the cottage will do you well. She says you will soon be spending more time here than you’ll care for and you must enjoy society while you still may.” He set himself down in the chair beside hers with an exhausted huff, having delivered the message. “I think she is afraid she has not been hospitable enough for you and fears what you will write to her cousin.”

“ _ Is _ that your assessment?” Claire asked, amused. 

“ _ Oui _ .”

“Well, I’m inclined to agree. I suppose I will need to send you with my response—assuming you don’t mind the errand?”

He shook his head. “And you are declining, Milady?”

She nodded. “Tell her that, while I am flattered and would love to be able to accept, I am not feeling well enough in my condition. However, if she should like to call on me for a light luncheon one of these days, I should be happy to have her company.”

“As you will, Milady. You do not need assistance with our dinner?” 

The note of hope in his voice made her smile. Anything to get out of what he considered, ‘women’s work.’ 

“No, I can manage on my own. Once everything’s in the pot, it pretty much takes care of itself. I can rest while it cooks and stir it a little here and there. You’ll be back long before it’s ready.”

“Very well then, Milady.” He heaved himself up and dashed to the door, pausing long enough to glance back at her for one last reassuring smile and nod, then he was gone on his new errand and Claire relaxed back in the chair, sighing and counting to ten before pushing herself up out of her own chair. 

It was easier to keep moving once she’d started. In so many ways, it felt like that was all that kept her going. Forward momentum carrying her away from Lallybroch, across the sea, across France. It was when she stopped moving that her thoughts and fears would catch up with her. She could only look forward to the next thing, no longer able to see several steps ahead, to plan. It had been ‘get to Paris.’ Then it had been, ‘get some help.’ 

Louise had stepped forward in an unexpected way, not only offering to take both Claire and Fergus in but offering an alternative when Claire declined. To see Louise’s healthy son, born so soon after the loss of Faith… to see Louise and all the people she and Jamie had befriended in their failed efforts to prevent the Rising that had ultimately taken Jamie… 

Instead, a cousin who was dependent on Louise and her wealthy husband, was implored to take Claire and Fergus under her wing in Geneva. She had provided lodging until Claire was able to secure some on her own, and it was through her that Claire was introduced around and ultimately found some work with her healing and Fergus was taken on as a runner among the local elite. Messages, packages, errands… Fergus was paid to undertake the lot for those whose time was more important. Seeing it as his duty to provide for Claire in Jamie’s absence, Fergus proved diligent and capable when he wished. 

But soon there would be another mouth to feed and Claire’s time to spend healing would dwindle. She would have to write to Jenny and Ian, though she was loathe to ask any sort of help from them. Perhaps she could bring herself to ask for aid from Jared instead. He’d been fond of Jamie and she was one of many Jacobite widows who’d lost the security and earnings of a husband.

She hated it, more than the ache of Jamie’s loss. Being dependent on the favors of others, of his family and friends. In such moments of self-pity, she almost wished she’d gone to Craigh na Dun and traveled back to her own time. At least there she would have more options for how to provide for herself and her child. But she couldn’t leave Fergus alone like that. And she’d made her decision years before when Jamie had taken her to that hill himself. 

Finished with the vegetables, she left the soup to simmer while she sat in her chair by the window resting and waiting. It shouldn’t take Fergus long to get back… unless he found another job to run in the process. Good thing the soup would keep. 

Dozing, she slipped into a dream. It must be a dream, for she heard Jamie calling her name at great distance. The child in her belly kicked out hard and woke her. 

She sighed and rose, stretching to ease the ache in her muscles and joints from sitting so cramped and still. 

Through the window, she thought she saw movement up the way. Fergus finally arriving home for dinner. Claire crossed to the hearth to stir the soup, breathing deep the earthy aroma that rose with the steam. 

She dropped the spoon into the pot as her name came to her again, as it had in the dream. Except it wasn’t faint. It was close. She spun and lurched for the door, throwing it open and stepping into the fading light of the late afternoon… where it caught in Jamie’s bright, fiery hair and brought Claire to her knees. 

He was there in an instant, kneeling in the dirt path beside her, his arms around her and his tears mingling with hers. 

“I’m not too late then, I see,” he remarked when he pulled back to look at her, his eyes dropping to her prominent belly. 

“You…?” she gasped before catching the sly twinkle in his eye, the proud smile stretching across his relieved face. She gave him a light smack on the arm before gripping it to brace herself and stand. “I should have known you knew. You knew when you sent me with Fergus.”

“Of course,  _ mo ghraidh _ ,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “I couldna have parted wi’ ye otherwise. I was most worried I’d no find ye again before yer time came. I couldna bear the thought of ye goin’ through it on yer own after Faith. Mind, I’d have had an easier time of it if ye’d written Jenny where it was ye’d gone.”

Claire felt heat rushing to her cheeks even as tears filled her eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter why I didn’t,” she told him, her fingers taking a tight hold of his shirt as they fumbled their way to their feet. “All that matters is you’re here and you’re whole. We’re together and the rest… well we’ve time to figure it out.”

“Some things we’ve more time for than others,” Jamie whispered, his fingers trembling as he reached to lay them against Claire’s belly. The child inside shifted beneath his palm in casual greeting. “What shall we call him?”

“When I thought you were dead, I decided I’d call the baby after you,” Claire managed to say around the lump in her throat. “But seeing as you  _ aren’t _ dead…” 

“Would ye mind callin’ him for my father?” Jamie asked.

Claire rested her hand over his. “I think that would be lovely.”


End file.
